


Will There Be (Enough Water?) (Caleb Widogast)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, M/M, Mention of blood, Original Character(s), PTSD, Physical Conflict, TRIGGER WARNINGS: slavery mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: caleb widogast enters gnaw’s life, and by extension his child’s life, in the way he does everything: failing to be sneaky and pissing people off.





	Will There Be (Enough Water?) (Caleb Widogast)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Will There Be (Enough Water?) (Caleb Widogast)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694953) by [RockWithItWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting). 

[masterlist](https://nightowlwriting.tumblr.com/masterlist/) \- [request](https://nightowltwriting.tumblr.com/ask/) \- [support my work?](https://ko-fi.com/nightowleli) \- [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting)

find the version of this story featuring reader as the main character on my profile

* * *

In the last town Gnaw had picked up a child - rather they picked him up. A tabaxi kit, no older than thirteen years, had been kidnapped and sold into slavery. They called themselves Sweet of Fire, a clan name given to them before they were taken. Gnaw broke them free, killing their owners, and expected the child to head back to their clan. They did not.

“I don’t know where they’re at,” Sweet had said to him, with big eyes looking up at Gnaw. “And besides, you’ve saved me. Shouldn’t you be my clan now?” And, well, who was Gnaw to deny that? So Sweet became his child - they didn’t seem to know what boy or girl meant, or care, and he decided that he did not care either. They were useful for many things - tabaxi are stealthy by nature, never unarmed, and they hold more knowledge than he’s ever seen in one being. Even Sweet who did not know about most things could tell you how gnoll society was run, and the way it has evolved in the years before their escape. But mostly… Gnaw came to care for Sweet. They became his child, one that he never thought he would have had. He explained this to them, one night, and they didn’t know what a parent was. He explained the terms Mom and Dad, but again, they don’t really care for gender. They dubbed Gnaw Moda, or sometimes My Moda. It makes his heart swell.

So he protects them. Gnaw shelters them from the way his sword fells bandits at night, the way people glance his way as they perch on his bag when both of them pass through areas that are populated. He shelters them in a way that is redundant because they saw worse things in the gnoll tunnels.

He finds an inn in a small town, settling at a table in the back with Sweet before Gnaw even attempts to rent a room. Some places are averse, to say the least, to tabaxi in their inns let alone a tabaxi with a tiefling father, and he wants to make sure that they will get served hot food with no poison before he tells Sweet that they’re going to stay for the night. They bounce off of Gnaw’s shoulder and into a chair, perched regally with wide eyes, slit pupils, and a tail that swishes slowly in wide arcs. They’re nervous.

“Sweet,” Gnaw runs his fingers over their head, their ears flattening and perking back up as his hand moves. They blink at him, slowly. “It is okay. If you do not want to sleep here tonight, we can find a place to camp out.” They cock their head at Gnaw, blinking again in the slow way they do when they’re putting their trust in someone. His heart seizes as he watches.

“I think that I should sleep in a place with walls.” They nod their head and shake his hand off, adjusting their shirt as their tail gives away their nerves once again. “I do not like it one bit, but I should do it so that I can not be afraid anymore!”

A warm smile makes its way onto Gnaw’s face and he nods, once. “Yes, you should always do things like this, but do not make yourself uncomfortable.” The door opens and the cool night air makes the tiefling shiver.

Very matter-of-factly Sweet nods at him. “You should invest in some fur. It’s very useful, especially in places where it is very bad and cold.”

“You think every place is bad and cold, Sweet.”

“I am right.”

Gnaw finally turns to see the newcomers to the inn. Something in him freezes and he leans forward to hide Sweet. They put their paws on his shoulder, settling their chin on top of their paws anyway. Children - who knew they could be so difficult? His mother must have, he supposes, but then why didn’t she warn him?

The group is a rag-tag one. At first glance* Gnaw thinks that they’re mostly human group: two tieflings and a smattering of humans but when he looks again he’s wrong. There are two tieflings, yes, but what looks to be a half-orc, a goblin, and the two humans. Sweet’s claws dig into Gnaw’s shoulder* and he yells out, giving way to get out from underneath them. Gnaw jerks them off, turning to face his terrified tabaxi child.

“A gnoll!” They shriek in Undercommon. It was something they had picked up from the gnolls and that Gnaw had picked up from them. He grapples for them, wrapping them close to his chest before they can cause too much of a commotion.

“Sweet!*” Gnaw hushes them swiftly. People are beginning to look and wonder* what is happening. “Sweet, darling, that is not a gnoll.” Undercommon is not a language that is particularly easy to speak, but it is everything that they knew until Gnaw. Maybe it will offer some comfort. “That is a goblin, not a gnoll. Even baby gnolls are bigger than that.”

Sweet looks at Gnaw, tears pooling in their eyes, matting the dark fur as they dripped down their face. Gnaw wipes the tears away, watching as the fur under his blue hands lightens in color as it’s exposed away from their muzzle*. He loves the pattern of their coat, loves the way that as they get older it becomes more and more beautiful. “There we go, darling, calm down for me, Sweet of Fire.” He presses a kiss to their forehead before tucking them into his jacket, concealing them from view. Gnaw looks odd, yes, with a tabaxi shaped lump in his jacket but it’s better than anything else that could happen at that moment.

The group that triggered Sweet’s panic seems to have dissipated. The only ones left in the tavern room of the inn are one of the tieflings - a deep purple being with baubles and shiny things tacked on everywhere that Sweet would surely go wild over - and one of the humans. Gnaw shifts Sweet closer to his chest so he can swipe their daggers off of them. It’s surely uncomfortable laying on them, and everything is not looking like it will be going well. The two from the group are watching Gnaw, but pretending like they are not.

It’s hard to pretend when you’re a tiefling covered in baubles and as dirty as the human one. Gnaw wants to tell them that, but instead, he makes his way to the bar. “Yes,” He lays on his charm thickly, “Ma’am, I would like to rent a room for the night.*” The elven woman behind the bar stumbles as he smiles at her, flushing up to her neck. It’s something about the teeth, usually, that makes people swoon over Gnaw.

“Oh, yes, we do have a room!” Her eyes glance to where Gnaw’s cradling his child, brows furrowing for a moment. “We have two rooms, as well, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, no need. This is my child, tired from a day of traveling, you know?” He cocks his head and the woman flushes again. “They prefer a bedroll by the fire, dearest, so one bed is fine for lil’ ol’ me.” She reaches under the bar to find a book, flicking through it without looking. Her gaze is fixed upon Gnaw, flush still on her face.

“We have a room for five gold a night, darling, but I can lower the price if…” She makes no move or hides the way she looks at him. Gnaw does his best not to cringe externally. He’s holding his child and she’s offering…

“I’m sorry, but I will have to pass on your generous offer. Here is my gold for the night.” Gnaw slides the gold over. His arm is beginning to hurt from holding Sweet for this long, but they’ve stopped shaking and that is enough to keep him going. The woman passes the key to him and lets her hand linger, but Gnaw pays no mind. Sweet needs sleep, and honestly? So does he.

It’s not like he’s going to get any sleep, no. Gnaw can hear someone following him* and he knows it’s one of the group members from before. Undercommon is not always spoken in public, and the image of someone bundling a yowling tabaxi into their cloak certainly must arouse suspicion. He won’t sleep tonight, that was for sure.

Gnaw also wasn’t lying to the woman when he said Sweet preferred their bedroll in front of the fire. Perhaps it was a more feline characteristic, or maybe it was just Sweet, but they could not sleep unless they were curled up in front of a fire. Gnaw settles them in, finally relieving himself of the pack he had been carrying for most of the day. Gnaw has several weapons: Sweet’s daggers, his longsword, a small handbow that didn’t do much damage, and his own dagger that was strong, inlaid with gold and passed from his family. It isn’t much, but it will do. He knows he should prepare better than pulling up a chair and settling with his back to the fire and front to the door, but that’s all Gnaw knows to do. So he does. And he waits.

It’s around midnight when the door begins to open, slowly and softly. Gnaw is ready, sword by his side and handbow aimed where, if he is to fire, a goblin’s head would be or a humanoid’s groin would be. Gnaw’s bases are covered.

But it’s not a goblin, because of course, it’s not - he really has to get better about assuming things about people because of what they look like; he’s a tiefling himself for Gods’ sake! - but the dusty human from the tavern room. He doesn’t look before he’s fully in the room which is, in Gnaw’s opinion, a mistake. He’s on his feet* before the human has a chance to realize it and Gnaw crosses the room silently. Gnaw’s dagger is against the man’s neck, his body pressing the other against the wall and the human makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat.

“Who are you?” Gnaw hisses.

The man struggles against Gnaw*, but* he jerks his knee against the human’s thigh and the man stills, breathing heavily against Gnaw’s blade. “I’ll ask you one more time, man, who are you and what are you doing in my room?” He looks like he wants to lie, and Gnaw wants him to. Lying means a reason to kick his ass and to protect Sweet. Not lying means that Gnaw might have to hear him out.

“I am Gokrin of Skywood, please, I was just looking for my room!”* There’s something there, under his smooth words.* It’s the lilting of an accent not spoken but not hidden very well. Gnaw presses his dagger closer, taking care to not draw blood. “Unh-!”

“Tell me the truth, or I swear to the Gods I’ll gut you and hang you out to dry like leather.”* The man gulps and nods, but Gnaw doesn’t relent. The human struggles again* and Gnaw fights back* but neither of them gains any headway. Sweet stirs during the struggle but doesn’t wake up. Gnaw pushes with all of his might, some carnal desire to protect his family burning low in his gut* as he traps the struggling man against the door once more. Gnaw turns his dagger just a little bit, letting the blade bite skin and draw a thin line of blood. A surface wound, really, nothing serious. “Tell me.”

“I am… I am Caleb Widogast, I am traveling with the Mighty Nine and I’ve…” His voice is different, his common is stilted with an accent that Gnaw can’t place. He takes a few seconds to gasp, try to jerk away from the tiefling’s dagger, “I have never seen a tabaxi before and I wanted to get a closer look at your friend.”

Rage billows in Gnaw’s stomach, blooming in his cheeks and making them a ruddy, dark blue with emotion. He feels so angry that tears begin to rise in his eyes. “They are not my friend,” Gnaw snarls, voice low and twisted dangerously close to Infernal, “They are my child, and they are not an artifact to be studied in the dead of night. I should kill you where you stand, Cal-eb Wido-gast.” The snarling tiefling, his tail cutting through the air like a whip, separates the name, saying it slowly and communicating that he’s committing it to memory. “I should slit your throat and let you die.”

From behind the two of them, a very small voice speaks out: “What’re you doin’?” Gnaw spares a glance over his shoulder where Sweet is sitting up, rubbing their eyes. Hell, he hadn’t even heard them begin to wake up*. Fuck.

“Nothing, little flame, go back to sleep.”

Sweet’s eyes finally fall on the two men, wide and green almost swallowed by black pupils in the low light of the room. It takes them a moment to process what is happening, but then they scream, hackles raised, and head toward the corner furthest away from the grappling men. “Who is that?! Moda, what’s happening?” They sound so scared, shaken, and Gnaw wants to kill Caleb Widogast tenfold more than before. His child should never be scared, not in a room with walls like a cell. He wants them to begin to feel safe surrounded on all sides, wants to make sure they don’t grow up only able to sleep outside. Gnaw snarls at Caleb before turning his head to look over his other shoulder so that he can see Sweet. “He’s not going to try and take me back, is he?”

Gnaw’s resolve breaks, and the tears that were pooling in his eyes begin to drip down his cheeks. “No, Sweet of Fire, I would never let anyone take you back.” Gnaw removes his dagger from Caleb’s neck to strike him* over the head with the handle. Caleb jerks his head out of the way* at the last second and the handle strikes the wood of the door. He breaks Gnaw’s grapple and twists out the door, slamming it behind him. The tiefling leans against the door for one moment, shocked, as he can hear Caleb’s footsteps move away with marginal speed but then he remembers Sweet. They’re shaking and crying in the corner… Gnaw is crying too. He jams the chair under the door handle, thankful for the way the wood gives way just a little bit and then he’s on to Sweet.

They’re shaking, eyes wide with horror that Gnaw might know the name of. Of course, of course. He should have forced Caleb Widogast outside to have the discussion… Ugh! He doesn’t know how to be a parent, and yet something in his gut screams that he should have been better, should be better…

There is no calming Sweet. There never is when they’re like this, so instead Gnaw lays them on the bed and begins to pack their things into the bag. His body aches, but the two of them have to leave the tavern. Caleb had said he was traveling with the Mighty Nine, and Gnaw may be able to take a squishy little human man covered in dirt, but those tieflings? That goblin? The half-orc? No, never. He’d die, and then Gods know what would happen to Sweet.

Gnaw bundles them in their cloak and then in his own jacket; something, anything, to muffle the low, mournful sounds they are making. By the time he hits the tavern room of the inn, the elf woman is waiting for the duo. She looks pale and confused. “Are you okay?” She asks, wringing her hands. “I heard the screaming, what is wrong with your child?”

Gnaw is shaking with anger and fear, so he says nothing and sweeps into the night. He walks swiftly, and eventually as he leaves the light of the street torches Sweet begins to calm down. They seem to have panicked themselves into sleep and Gnaw is thankful. It’s hard to decide where to bundle down, but he must choose. Gnaw finds a place that’s set back into trees and bushes, clearly used before the two of them. It will have to do.

Sweet has fur, but Gnaw only removes his jacket from the bundle they’re wrapped in. They are young, they need to stay warm. Gnaw is not young, and although he gets colder easier than they do he is also more resilient to the sickness that follows the chill. Gnaw doesn’t sleep and, honestly, doesn’t feel tired even as the sun begins to climb on the horizon. It’s not that he feels awake, more like he’s too scared to sleep or to begin to think about sleep. He wonders if he’s cursed when he watches Caleb Widogast strut past where they’re hiding, but then turn around and call out to his group.

“We have no time to waste, they have hours on us.”

Gnaw’s heart freezes, as does the rest of him, and he does his best to push into the shadows*. The rising sun is making that hard. His eyes track the rest of the group as they catch up to Caleb, the goblin awful close to eye level with where they’re hiding. The goblin - Gnaw doesn’t know if goblins are like tabaxi or if they have genders, so he doesn’t immediately gender the little green thing - speaks. Their voice warbles naturally but is heavy with concern.

“Caleb, are you sure we should be going after them? That cat thing sounded awful last night.” Instinctually Gnaw bares his teeth, but thankfully it’s a silent reaction. The goblin reaches for Caleb’s hand. “Perhaps we should just move on.”

“For once I agree with Nott.” The other human in the group speaks, her voice low and raspy. She is dressed in tactical clothing, not much noticing the chill of the morning. “This seems like a pointless lead.”

The half-orc speaks next, with a slow drawl that makes Gnaw’s skin prickle and something tug in his gut. “Beau,” That is, assumably, the human woman who spoke. “This is the only lead that we have. If it leads us to the drow assembly, then we need to find those two.”

Gnaw’s ears perk up, and he doesn’t think he moves but perhaps he does. One of the tieflings lets their eyes roll toward the noise he made, not expecting to find anything… But, of course, they find Gnaw and Sweet*. She’s blue, like Gnaw himself is, and less flashy than the purple tiefling that had cased them the night before. Her face lights up, and she tugs on the dirty jacket of Caleb Widogast. Her accent is even stranger than Caleb’s, or that half-orc, and the cadence sends Gnaw’s mind tumbling.

“Cay-leb! Look! I think that I have found the strange thingies you are looking for!” Caleb scowls, his beard covering most of his mouth. If Gnaw couldn’t hear the scowl, he would have never had guessed Caleb was emoting at all.

“Jester, they are not thingies, they are peo- wait, what?”

But thank Gods Gnaw’s been on the road for as long as he has. He’s already moving, sweeping Sweet into his arms, glad when they don’t wake. They will, Gnaw knows this, but the longer they sleep the longer he can prevent another attack from seizing them. He makes a break for it, leaving the pack behind so that he can make it faster and farther without capture.

Somehow, he knows that because he’s carrying Sweet they will be caught*. Gnaw makes it past the group, clutching Sweet desperately to his chest, but he’s apprehended almost immediately. The human woman, Beau*, slides in front of Gnaw, a staff ready in her hands. He skids to a stop, gasping for breath, and turns in a circle quickly. They’re surrounding him. There’s nothing he can do, nothing! He’s stuck, and the realization comes with a wretched sob from his throat and his body giving out. Gnaw collapses to his knees, bending to protect Sweet who is still asleep, thankfully, and cradled in his arms.

“Please do not hurt them.” Gnaw’s voice is level, despite the way that he’s crying. “They are all I have, but if you must: take me. Do not send them back, I will gladly take their place.” It’s a lie, he knows it and they know it, but somehow the truth. If Gnaw had to decide who the gnolls got as a slave, it would be him. It would never be Sweet of Fire again. Someone gently touches Gnaw’s shoulder. He flinches anyway, closing his eyes and awaiting the blow that surely would follow. Would it be to the base of his neck? Would it be to the back of his head? Would he fall unconscious? Would he die right away?

A hand crawls around his neck and rubs in a soothing motion, but he can feel the fingernails of a tiefling. They could kill him at any moment, but they’re not. They’re… Not? Someone crouches in front of Gnaw, reaches out for him, but then pulls back just before they make contact with the bundle that is still Sweet.

“What is your name?”

It’s Caleb, his accent softening his words unlike the night before when they made them sharp and dangerous. Now, in the daylight, he looks skinnier and less dangerous. But how does Gnaw let his guard down when he tried to slip into the room in the middle of the night? When he’s surrounded by Caleb’s friends - his half-orc, tiefling, goblin friends? They could all fell him in a second before he had time to reach for his - oh. His weapons are with his pack and not on his person...

Gnaw is helpless and that is not what he wants to be. If he reasons maybe… Maybe they’ll let him go. They’ll take what they want and they’ll leave. That’s how that works, right? Gnaw makes his decision and he sags some more, shoulders swallowing around Sweet as if to protect them from his choice. Gnaw gives Caleb his name, his real name, and hopes he doesn’t ask about Sweet. If Gnaw can keep him focused on himself, then everything would turn out to be okay.

Caleb repeats his name, “Gnaw,” as if he’s testing it out in his accent. It’s different than how Gnaw, himself, pronounces it, but it’s his name none the same. Gnaw looks up at him, just as Sweet begins to stir. “Who is this-?” But Sweet wakes up, their face turned toward Caleb, and they begin to panic. It’s so easy with them, their past, and Gnaw curses as they wriggle free.

One of their clawed paws tries to find purchase on him, and he cries out as his face is caught in the cross-fire, three scratches down his cheek immediately beginning to bleed. It seems that Caleb has the same treatment, and then all hell breaks loose.

The goblin, Nott, unleashes a crossbow bolt in Gnaw’s general direction. He easily deflects it by spinning, kicking the bolt out of the air, but then he’s capturing Sweet in his arms again. They’re yowling, more cat than humanoid, and struggling away from him. He’s still surrounded, and there’s no way to get away/ “Sweet! Sweet of Fire and Brave of Heart, you are okay!” Gnaw’s voice breaks, using their full name, and it seems to snap them out of their haze of panic. They settle in his arms, chest heaving. Their lower lip begins to wobble, as much as it can, and they grasp the front of his shirt in their paws.

“Moda, I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to do that again. Please, don’t let these people take me back.” Gnaw’s heart breaks, and he can hear the group suck a breath in through their teeth at the sound of Sweet’s broken voice. He sits up, taking Sweet with him and making sure they’re wrapped securely in his arms. From his knees in the dirt, blood dripping down his cheek, Gnaw levels most of the group with the most dangerous, feral stare he can muster*.

“I will give you whatever you want of me. Information, food, blood, coin, weapons, body.” A few of them flinch when he says it so blatantly, “But I will not give you Sweet of Fire and Brave of Heart. They will remain unharmed, they will remain armed, and they are not to leave my sight unless I say so.” The group reaches a consensus without even looking at each other, before the half-orc steps forward, nodding.

“You have a deal.” His voice is deep and it drawls. He reaches a large hand out to Gnaw. “No harm will come to you or Sweet of Fire and Brave of Heart.” Gnaw is, as much as he hates to admit it, surprised in some way that the half-orc man remembers Sweet’s full title. Gnaw presses a kiss into Sweet’s forehead, surprised when they reach out for the half-orc’s hand before he can.

“I trust you not to hurt my Moda,” They say and stumble from his arms. In a flash, they’ve dug their claws into the man’s palm and, with their other paw, into his forearm. He cries out, but nobody moves. “And if you do I’ll show you what I used to do when I was mean before they taught me my nanners.”

Gnaw is crying again, but he still manages to choke out a correction. “Manners, darling.” They just snarl at the half-orc before retreating to lock onto Gnaw’s back much like the pack. The man, still bleeding, nods once and helps the tiefling to his feet.

“Let’s get you back to the tavern,” He decides for the group, “You can rest, wash up, eat. Then we will talk. You are no prisoner, here, Gnaw.” The man adds the name for emphasis. “No harm will come to you when you’re with the Mighty Nine.”

It’s not until he’s back at the tavern, washed and rinsing the soap from Sweet’s fur, that Gnaw realizes there’s only six of them but they’re called… The Mighty Nine?

*1: rolled for perception: 9 +1

*2: rolled for constitution: 9 -1, needed to pass: 17

*3: rolled for constitution: 11 -1

*4: rolled for stealth: 4 +2, needed to pass: 5

*5: sweet fire is a tabaxi with the coat of a Siamese cat, and green eyes instead of the normal blue

*6: rolled for charisma: nat 20

*7: rolled for perception: 12 +0

*8: rolled for stealth: 10 +2, needed to pass: 6

*9: rolled for strength, caleb lv2: 1 +0

*10: rolled for strength: 8 +0

*11: rolled for deception, caleb lv2: 3 +3

*12: rolled for insight check: 10 +2

*13: rolled for intimidation: 10 +3, needed to pass: 10

*14: rolled for strength, caleb lv2: 9 +0

*15: rolled for strength: 9 +0

*16: rolled for strength: 18 +0

*17: rolled for stealth: 3 +5, needed to pass: 5

*18: rolled for strength: 2 +0

*19: caleb’s ac, lv2: 11

*20: rolled for stealth, disadvantage: 4 +2

*21: rolled for perception of group, advantage: 10

*22: speed is halved for carrying Sweet: 30 speed is now 15 speed

*23: speed for players (minus yasha) lv2: fjord(30), nott(30), jester(30), beau(40), caleb(30)

*24: rolled for intimidation: 17 +3


End file.
